{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Peter Solarz

Kaledo Art

if i look back, i am lost
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dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

shark vs the universe
Three Goblin Art
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
NASA

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!
Acquired Stardust

oozey mess
RMH

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@whatabeautifulmess22
{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}
i love you singers whose vocals sound desperate i love you musicians who sound like if you don’t get this song out you’re going to explode i love you songs that sound like they’re dragging the vocalist with them 80 miles per hour down the highway tied to the back of a truck i love you voice cracks in emotional songs i love you unique voices i love you music that disturbs the comfortable and comforts the disturbed
Yoshinori Mitzutani, Birds
i can probably just say that 'he is my safe place'
but he's so much more than that
he's my happy human pillow that loves to listen to me and helps me out and he makes me feel sleepy so I know my inner child actually feels safe with him.
regarding the röttgen pietà, elle emerson
cats are small and you can pick them up
but watch out
Our blessed tumblr
A holy site
Nah nah nah, you ain’t hiding this in the tags
Not one of the 7 deadly sins, but a secret 8th sin
*has one uncomfortable interaction*
*is fucked up for 3 days*
it is all love.
sometimes you will see something saying what if it is all worth it or it gets better, doesn't it and in the little heart of you - you feel a darkness.
was it love, the way i was hurt? some things don't have a lesson in them. no silver lining. they were bad things, and they shouldn't have happened. i'm sorry they did. i am sorry they warp the space they hold in you. we tightrope walk around an ever-present grave. we carry that ache for so long it becomes smooth, overworn. i worry that i'll bore my therapist - despite all of my attempts, the pain persists the same, as sharp as it always was.
but it was all love.
every ugly moment after. every bad night. every time you drank too much and cried on the bathroom floor. every time you threw up from anxiety, every time you panicked in the grocery store. everything you ruined, and everything you walked away from.
some small part of you loved you enough. made you get up. made you wash your face and clean your teeth and call home. made you try again, even from the bottom. even when you were so tired of it; of restarting, of having to do-it-all-again. some part of you reached out. some part of you reached up. even there, in the bad spot - you somehow got up.
love will so rarely be big. it will so rarely be a moment like a dawn. love is shy, i think. she keeps her hands in front of her cheeks. she waits to peek out. and if you're not looking, she will look - normal.
but it will all be love. the way you pour yourself a glass of water. the little rabbit outside your window. your friend pushing your hair behind your ear. the way your dog greets you at the door. "put on a seatbelt". "text me when you get home safe". "oh, i started watching that show you love." "have you been okay?" "let's go for a walk" "whatcha doin?" "what should i make for dinner?"
oh, my life is so different these days. i don't have a partner. i call my friends a lot. i keep falling in love with the little tender moments; the glittering ones. you know, the bird in a puddle and the shush of a newly-lit candle. the movie-moments.
i am also learning to love the ugly. every moment i spent belly-flat to the floor, anxious and panting. every hour i stared at nothing, losing time to my adhd. every missed opportunity and bad memory. i am not doing well. i am spiralling.
but somewhere in there, while i am reduced to ashes. some part of me is an ever-burning ember. her little thankless job, her shy and croaking voice. she holds me to my body. she doesn't let me go. stay, she whispers. out of love. my love. wherever it goes.
some of the bad things that happened to me will always be bad. they did not make me a better person. they made me worse. i only learned what i can endure. and i did endure it. and love wasn't just the perfumed moments. love was just ... staying. while it's ugly and hard and horrible. love was just saying:
okay. i will keep trying. keep going. i owe it to the version of myself who brought me here. i owe it to my future. i owe it to the small loves i have found since - the music and the new recipes and the new books and the new hobbies. i owe it to myself to wait for the next best thing. this wall we have hit - love says keep walking. maybe one day we will find a door.
always, always: just one try more.
fuck therapy i’m becoming a knight
Hey
I crave to be wanted.
A feeling that I have not felt in years; wanted.
Needed, sure. Loved, sure. But selfishly wanted?
I want someone to want me for me.
dads are so right about falling asleep on the couch with your arms crossed
arabic poetry is so beautifully yet painfully romantic, i mean “they asked “do you love her to death?” i said “speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life" and “because my love for you is higher than words, i've decided to fall silent" and "it is not enough to say love in Arabic, you must say 'be the thing that buries me'" could have got jane austen crying and shaking